A Problem Shared Is A Problem Solved
by Helen C
Summary: Ryan was doing well until he reached Corona—a little followup to overnighter's The Reno.


Title : A Problem Shared Is A Problem Solved

Author : Helen C.

Rating : I truly suck at rating stuff. PG-13, possibly R.

Summary : Ryan was doing well until he reached Corona—a little follow-up to overnighter's _The Reno —_ www dot fanfiction dot net slash s slash 2421511 slash 1 slash

Spoilers : Everything up to _The Dearly beloved_ is fair game.

Disclaimer : The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN : I was attacked by this plot bunny shortly after I'd read _The Reno_, by overnighter. The damn bunny wouldn't leave me alone, so I just surrendered and wrote this little ficlet. Clearly, it's not as good as The Reno (will anything ever be as good as The Reno? Yeah, don't think so either) but overnighter was nice enough not to mock me, so here it is…

As usual, many, many thanks to Joey51 for her help on this, and to overnighter for allowing me to post this.

* * *

**A Problem Shared Is A Problem Solved**

Helen

Ryan was doing well until he reached Corona.

Or perhaps "well" was too strong a word. "Not too bad" would have been closer to the truth. He was in control, everything was manageable, nothing he couldn't handle.

And then, as he reached Corona, his vision started to blur around the edges, and he suddenly realized that his breathing was too heavy and that he was shaking, so he stopped in a parking lot as soon as he was able.

It was a little funny, the way he seemed to always stop halfway between Newport and Chino. Except it wasn't so funny, since the first time, he had stopped when he'd finally realized that beating the crap out of Eddie wasn't going to help anyone, and this time it was because he seemed to have lost the ability to see clearly, and not only in a metaphorical way.

Ryan turned the key in the ignition, silencing the engine, and put his hands on the wheel, gripping it tightly. For several minutes, all he did was try to breathe calmly and deeply, in a futile attempt to empty his mind.

His thoughts were swirling.

_Should have called Sandy, what was I thinking, can't possibly go there, Sandy will be mad, what was I thinking, what was I thinking, what was I thinking?_

Ryan squeezed the steering wheel tighter, and focused on the pain he now felt in his cramping fingers. Little by little, he regained his focus.

When he finally felt calm enough, he released his death grip and dropped his hands on his lap, deliberately relaxing in his seat.

The sun was high in the sky, making Ryan squint in the light. He should have brought his sunglasses. Of course, he hadn't expected he'd need them today. He wasn't supposed to leave Newport; he was supposed to spend the day at school, then go home and study, and then play video games with Seth.

Unfortunately, Dawn Atwood was well known for her ability to derail the best laid plans.

She had called Ryan during his lunch break. How she had been able to obtain his cell phone number was anyone's guess, but she'd managed. Of course. She always found a way to contact him when she needed something.

Seth and Summer had been busy in the library and Marissa had been busy doing God-knows-what, so there hadn't been anyone to stop Ryan from freaking out when his mom's shrill voice—the one that meant drunk-and-stoned-and-getting-a-beating—had screamed his name, screamed for help, begged him to come. Then AJ's voice had added to the mix, and as much as Ryan would have liked to think that it was a joke, he knew it wasn't.

Once upon a time, this had been his life.

Actually, this was _still_ his life, apparently, because he had hurriedly told his mother that he was on his way, then he had found Seth, begged for the car keys, and left the school without much of an explanation to anyone.

He hadn't even stopped to think that his friends would be worried, that Sandy would be pissed, and that it was odd that Dawn had come back to Chino, after everything.

And now, here he was, in a deserted parking lot, somewhere between Newport and Chino, cursing the conditioning that made him run like a good dog every time Dawn called.

How could he have done that?

It wasn't as if he had forgotten what had happened the last time Dawn had asked him to come help her. His little Reno escapade was still on everyone's minds. Sandy and Kirsten still looked worried, Trey still seemed both exasperated and concerned, and Summer… well, Summer was still Summer, really, and Ryan was glad that their little adventure hadn't changed the girl, hadn't changed the way she treated him.

Seth was still bursting with unanswered questions, Ryan still took two showers a day—and sometimes even more—and still felt dirty, tainted by this little trip down memory lane. He hadn't truly realized how ugly his life had been, until he'd tried to see it from a fresh perspective.

And yet, despite everything, despite the fact that Dawn hadn't even tried to stay at the rehab facility, despite the fact that she had let him go into that room with AJ, even though she knew what was going to happen, despite everything, Ryan still hadn't hesitated to answer her plea for help.

Here he was, cutting school, and Seth was going to be pissed, because they didn't get the car that often to go to school, and the one time they did, Ryan took it to…

To what?

Go back to Chino, and enter a house where Dawn and _AJ_ lived? What was going to happen once he got there? AJ wasn't likely to be in a good disposition, and what did Dawn think Ryan would be able to do, on his own?

It was stupid, he should never have come, and he'd known that as soon as he had asked Seth for the keys. And now here he was, and he could either go on and see what he could do to help Dawn, or he could go back to Newport and apologize to the Cohens.

Ryan put one hand on the wheel, telling himself that his mom needed help, needed him, and if AJ killed her, Ryan would never forgive himself, would always wonder if she'd still be alive, if he'd been faster, stronger.

He took a deep breath, and all of a sudden, his head was resting on the wheel and he was blinking back tears.

_If you want to party, AJ's got to come._

What. The. Fuck?

What the fuck was he doing?

What the fuck was he even thinking?

He couldn't go there. Dawn may need him, but if he had to face AJ again, he'd either kill the guy or die trying—and the second possibility was much more likely—and for what?

Ryan had been down that road before, and he knew exactly how the story ended—it ended with AJ in jail for the night, Dawn either in jail or crying at home, and Ryan in the hospital.

They had played that game so many times already, and the outcome had never really changed, except for the fact that sometimes, Ryan didn't need a doctor, sometimes, Theresa or Trey or Arturo could patch him up.

With a trembling hand, Ryan reached for his phone, and did what he should have done from the beginning.

He called Sandy.

"Where are you?" Sandy asked, before Ryan could even say a word.

The apology came automatically. "I'm sorry."

"Ryan, what—"

Ryan cut him off. "Can you… Please, can you…" He took another deep breath, trying to stay calm, trying not to start screaming into the phone. "Can you send the cops to…" He racked his brain for the address his mom had given him, repeated it to Sandy, and added, for good measure, a please and a thank you, hoping he didn't sound as hysterical as he felt.

Sandy replied calmly, "Ok, I'll send someone, but, Ryan, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"I'm sorry," he said again. And he hung up.

88888

Two hours later, Ryan still felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His phone rang every ten minutes, and he ignored it, knowing Sandy was probably going insane, but unable to bring himself to pick up and talk to the man, or to anyone else.

Deciding that he was too tired and too shaken up to go back to Newport, Ryan drove slowly through the streets of Corona, and stopped at the first motel he spotted. Thankfully, it wasn't a crack house or something equally entertaining. It wasn't exactly the kind of place found in Newport either, but then, what was?

He paid for the room with his new credit card, another generous gift from the Cohens—and, he suspected, another way for them to keep discreet tabs on him—took the keys the receptionist handed him, located his room, entered, and made a beeline for the bed.

He collapsed on top of the covers and stared at the ceiling for a while.

If nothing else, the day had been interesting.

He certainly hadn't foreseen, when he had left for school in the morning, that he would end up in a motel room, after having worried everyone who mattered to him, refused to answer his phone, which was a grave crime in the Cohen household, and certainly earned himself a series of detentions for leaving the school without warning anyone. _All in all, not a bad day of work,_ Ryan thought, and he had to struggle against the urge to laugh, because he wasn't sure he would have been able to stop laughing if he started.

When Summer had found him asleep under the shower, back in Reno, he had told her that he'd had his little freak out and he was cool now. He had been lying of course. He had known, even then, that he would eventually realize what had happened, what he had done, and that when he did, he would certainly, well, lose it—as he always did whenever AJ was involved in his life. Ryan didn't know what made that man scarier than all the other scumbags who'd messed with him in his life, but there it was.

AJ was crazy, and Ryan was growing worried that this craziness was, somehow, contagious. The logical, analytical part of himself knew very well that it was stupid, but his superstitious side still wondered. How much exposure to domestic violence did it take for someone to turn from abused to abuser? What were his chances of ending up like all the violent men he had known?

Had Sandy been too late?

Was the anger he felt, and sometimes unleashed, the first step to becoming another AJ?

He shivered at the thought.

His phone rang again, and Ryan absently picked it up, deciding he was in enough trouble with the Cohens already. If nothing else, they needed to know that he was still alive, and wouldn't come home tonight. "Yeah," he said.

Unfortunately, taking that call proved to be a mistake—yet another one in this mistakes filled day.

The communication didn't last more than thirty seconds, and Ryan didn't understand everything Dawn screamed at him, but he did hear "wish you'd never been born" and "police" and "should have let AJ…"

A wave of white hot anger washed through him, and before he could truly think about what he was doing, Ryan hurled the phone at the wall. It shattered upon impact, big and smaller pieces falling to the ground.

Ryan stared at the remains of the phone for several minutes, then lay back on the bed, spent.

That was more than a little disturbing, he decided.

Yet another sign that his control was slipping, that sometimes his anger got the better of him.

Was this what his father had felt, every time he slapped Ryan?

Was this the kind of hatred that ran through AJ's veins?

Ryan swallowed, fighting a wave of nausea.

He would never become like them, he vowed again. He'd kill himself before he let that happen. Somehow, if he ever crossed the line, he would know it, and he would take whatever measures would seem appropriate.

Feeling slightly better, he rolled over onto his side. There was a phone on the nightstand, and he should really use it to let the Cohens know what was happening.

But of course, that would require him to move, and the more Ryan looked at this phone, the more out of reach it seemed.

So, instead, he stared at the wall, trying not to think about his day so far, trying not to think about anything at all.

88888

Ryan woke up to a muffled voice.

"Kirsten, I promise, he's fine. Just asleep."

There was a small pause, during which Ryan tried to remember where he was.

"No, I haven't tried to wake him yet… Because I just arrived… I'm sure he's fine…"

Ryan opened his eyes to a dark, unfamiliar room and briefly wondered what he had done to end up in a hospital. But there wasn't any beeping, or any background noise at all, except for Sandy whispering.

"No, he broke his phone. I don't know, I'll ask."

Ryan looked around. Sandy was sitting on the only chair in the room, his back to Ryan.

Ryan remembered then.

The phone call, the near panic attack, the motel.

Dawn's second call of the day.

He had meant to call the Cohens, and then he'd fallen asleep.

It was dark outside, and Sandy had only turned on the bathroom light, so as to not awake Ryan.

Sandy had found him.

After Ryan had spent the day ignoring him, after Ryan had spent the day doing what he had promised he'd never do again—go see Dawn by himself.

Sandy had still found him, and driven all the way here, and done his best not to disturb Ryan.

Sandy hung up, rubbed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. Everything in his posture conveyed his weariness.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said softly.

Sandy jumped a little, turned to face Ryan.

"Sorry," Ryan repeated, because he hadn't meant to scare him.

Sandy nodded. "It's okay…"

There was a long, tense silence. Ryan sat up, leaning on the headboard, clenching his hands on his lap.

Sandy heaved a deep sigh. "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

Ryan didn't need to look at Sandy to know that the man was rolling his eyes. He amended his answer. "I don't know. I…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain himself. _I think I got insane, for a little while, but it seems better now, so perhaps it's not too bad? Except for the fact that it's entirely possible I'll end up like my dad, because I don't think two years with you have erased the rest of my life, and I know you did your best, and so did I, I swear I did, but I still do this stuff, and even **I** don't know where it's coming from, and I'm terrified, all the time. That's how I'm doing_, Ryan thought. He didn't utter the first word. What would have been the point? The Cohens could do a lot of wonderful things, but saving Ryan from his demons was not one of them.

Sandy studied him for a while in the scarcely-lit room. "What were you thinking?" he asked at last, his tone perfectly neutral.

He sounded curious and worried, Ryan noted. He sounded like he honestly wanted to know what kind of thought process had lead Ryan to this room, and Ryan would have loved to explain it to him, if only he'd had the slightest idea of what had happened himself. "I wasn't… I…"

He stopped, frustrated again at his inability to do something as simple as talk. There were days when Seth annoyed the hell out of him, and then there were days when Ryan envied his friend's ability to manipulate words. In the end, Ryan said what best summed up the situation. "She calls, I go." It sounded so stupid, so pathetic, even to himself, that Ryan cringed.

"That's it?" Sandy asked.

"It's always been like that," Ryan insisted. When Sandy didn't reply, Ryan risked a glance toward him.

For once, Sandy's face was totally blank. For some reason, that frightened Ryan more than any words could have.

"I didn't mean to—" Ryan started to explain.

"What went through your head?" Sandy insisted. "I need to know, Ryan."

"She called me," Ryan started. "At school. She needed help. So I took the car, and I drove and at some point, I had to stop." He paused to catch his breath, before adding, "AJ was with her." He shivered involuntarily and drew his legs up, resting his arms on his knees.

Sandy sighed. "Yes. They're both at the police station."

Ryan stared at him in silence. He had told Sandy most of what had happened in Reno. He hadn't told him about Summer, because that was between them, and he hadn't said anything about AJ and the motel room. Admitting to Sandy and Trey that he had helped his mother to shoot up had been bad enough. They didn't need to know about the rest.

"You didn't answer your phone for hours," Sandy said. "We were panicked."

Ryan gestured to the corner of the room where his phone lay in pieces. "Sorry," he said unnecessarily.

"Ryan, I love you, but if you say 'sorry' one more time," Sandy threatened.

"So—" Ryan closed his eyes. "I don't know what else to say."

"You could start with what has you so preoccupied since your little trip to Reno. Or you could start with why you didn't call me immediately when Dawn called you, as you had promised you would. Or—" Sandy got up and paced the room for a while, obviously flustered.

Ryan studied him, noticing the tense gestures, the graying hair on Sandy's temples, the rumpled clothes, and whispered, "Or we could have that discussion we've been avoiding for two years."

Sandy stopped pacing in front of the window and looked outside.

"That's what you were going to say, right?" Ryan insisted.

"Yes."

Ryan shook his head, whispering, "No."

Sandy turned from the window and went to the door. Ryan briefly wondered if this was it—the point when Sandy gave up on him, the point when he decided that Ryan was, indeed, more trouble than he was worth. Then the light went on, making Ryan shield his eyes and blink for a while. When he raised his head again, Sandy was looking at him, his face gentle and compassionate.

"Ryan, don't you think I suspect already?"

"I know you do," Ryan replied. They had never talked about it, not even indirectly, but Sandy had worked with a lot of kids like Ryan, had seen other cases like his. Ryan had always suspected that Sandy probably knew a lot about his past. He'd just always found it easier not to think about it. "I just… what difference does it make now? What will it change, if I tell you?"

"You tell me," Sandy shot back.

_It'll change the way you look at me_, Ryan thought. _It'll change the way you see me, you'll start analyzing everything I do in that light, you won't treat me the same way anymore._

But…

If Sandy already suspected, if he was already braced for what Ryan had to say, perhaps nothing would change.

After all, Summer hadn't changed, and Ryan had studied her enough to be sure of that. He was too oversensitive to the subject, and he would have picked up anything out of the ordinary.

There hadn't been anything out of the ordinary.

_I believe you_, she'd told him in Reno_. The Cohens would, too._

He tried to apply logic to the situation, but his thoughts were too jumbled, his wounds too raw, even now, for it to work.

He'd have to rely on his gut feeling this time.

And his gut feeling had made him call Sandy earlier.

His gut feeling was screaming at him to talk before he self-destructed even more than he already had.

"How did you find me?" Ryan asked, still stalling.

"You used your credit card," Sandy said. "I have this PI friend, remember? He knows people."

Ryan refrained from apologizing. He laughed shakily. "I seem to keep having this discussion in motel rooms…"

"What?" Sandy asked.

Ryan shook his head, and said, "I know I'll have to see someone eventually," he said. "I just… I'm not ready." His voice sounded interrogative, and he looked Sandy, begging him to understand. "It… it's like… I will, eventually."

Sandy frowned. "You can't go on like this, Ryan. If you could see yourself right now, you'd know that."

"I do," Ryan replied. "Can we… I made a deal with Summer. I'd tell her what she wanted to know, and she'd forget about it as soon as we were out of the room."

Sandy sat down next to Ryan. "Tell you what," he said. "We talk, and I'll agree not to talk about it again, unless you want me to."

Ryan nodded hesitantly.

"Do you want—?"

"I was nine," Ryan said. "The first time." He saw Sandy's fists clench. "I was nine."

88888

Ryan spoke for a long time, although he couldn't have said precisely how long. When he finally stopped, he felt like he had said more in one sitting than in all the time he had spent with the Cohens up to that point.

Ryan could hear the faint buzzing of the neon light in the bathroom, unnaturally loud in the silence.

For the first time since he had started speaking, Ryan looked at Sandy's face. Sandy, who hadn't said a word to interrupt Ryan, and who seemed to have aged ten years since this morning.

Sandy, who had put a hand on Ryan's forearm while Ryan was telling him all he could remember from his first foster family and hadn't moved since.

Ryan waited.

The few times he had entertained the idea of telling Sandy more about his past, he had always feared Sandy's reaction.

Would Sandy be compassionate or disgusted? Would he be angry at Ryan, or on Ryan's behalf? Would he believe Ryan unconditionally, no questions asked?

And, perhaps even more importantly, would he react as Ryan's lawyer or as a father?

What Ryan hadn't expected was that Sandy wouldn't do or say anything.

"Sandy?" he finally said, when he couldn't stand the silence anymore.

Sandy finally reacted, putting an arm around Ryan's shoulders, pulling him into a hug, his thumb rubbing Ryan's neck mechanically.

"I'm sorry," Sandy said.

Ryan let out a startled laugh. He hadn't expected _sorry_ either. "No apologizing, remember," he said. "Besides, it's not your fault."

Sandy didn't reply, but didn't let go of Ryan.

"What now?" Ryan asked after a while, his voice muffled by Sandy's shirt.

Sandy finally released him. "There's still something you haven't told me, isn't there?" he asked.

Ryan looked away. Telling Sandy about what had happened _before_ he had joined the Cohen household had been bad enough.

How was he going to tell him about what had happened in Reno?

"Ryan," Sandy insisted.

"I made a mistake in Reno." He chuckled nervously. "Besides the obvious, I mean."

"Tell me," Sandy said softly.

Ryan swallowed, his mouth dry.

"Ryan, you hide it well, but we know you. Trey—"

Ryan grimaced. Of course, Trey would know the signs. He wasn't living with them anymore when AJ was around, but he could read Ryan like a book, and he knew the kind of man AJ was.

"Well," Sandy went on, "he didn't really say anything, but he came to see me, asked if you'd told me more details about your little trip. He looked worried."

Ryan nodded. When he had come to Newport, he had hoped to leave his past behind. But deep down, he had always suspected that eventually, the Cohens, at least, would learn everything.

"You've changed."

Ryan looked up in surprise.

"Not in any noticeable way, but you seem a little… I don't know how to put it. Different."

"Yeah," Ryan said, his voice hoarse. "In Reno. Dawn wanted things from her room. AJ was there." He shot a look at Sandy, who nodded cautiously.

"He hit you."

"Yeah. He wanted…" Ryan trailed off, rubbed his eyes. "He wanted payment," he went on. "So I followed him in his room."

He let the words hang, knowing Sandy would fill the blanks.

Sandy sighed. "Damn, kid."

Ryan hoped Sandy wasn't going to ask him why he had done that, because he didn't know himself, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

"How do you feel?" Sandy asked.

"I think I'm gonna need another HIV test," Ryan said numbly.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sandy start. Wouldn't it be ironic, Ryan thought, if he had survived sixteen years with Dawn, found a relatively safer life, with a loving family, only to catch a fatal disease once he was supposed to be safe?

For some reason, he was convinced that AJ had infected him with something. The room had been too dirty, and AJ had been even worse, and Ryan had managed to convince himself, in the last few weeks, that this time, things wouldn't end well.

"It'll be all right," Sandy promised, as if in answer to his thoughts.

Ryan shook his head. "You don't know that."

"Sure, I do." Sandy smiled.

As much as he teased Seth about his obliviousness, Ryan sometimes wished he was more like him. Sometimes, he wished he could believe empty promises, wished he wasn't so aware of the threat some people posed, wished he wasn't so aware that life sucked.

And right now, he wished he could blindly believe Sandy.

He wished he could be so easily convinced everything was going to be just fine.

"Ryan?"

He smiled back at Sandy. "Yeah," he said.

It mustn't have been very convincing, if Sandy's face was any indication.

Unfortunately, it was the best he could do.

88888

Ryan could have sworn he would never be able to sleep, but somehow, he must have managed, since he woke up in a sunny room. The door was open and Sandy could be heard from outside.

"Yes, we're going to eat something, then we'll be on our way. We should be here in about two hours."

Ryan sat up and stretched, blinking away the last remnants of sleep.

Last night already seemed surreal to him.

He knew there were still issues to be addressed, not the least of which was the problem of Dawn—was there anything Ryan could do for her this time? And if so, should he do it?—and he was sure Trey was going to have a few choice words to say to him once he made it back.

Yet, all things considered, he didn't feel too bad—certainly, he didn't feel as fragile, as close to the breaking point as he had yesterday. He felt nervous, yes, but the moment he had always feared had come and gone and Ryan was still alive, and the world hadn't ended.

Of course, last night's talk didn't make what had happened easier to live with, but at least, now, Sandy knew, and that was one thing Ryan didn't have to worry about anymore.

It could have been worse, Ryan decided, before heading to the bathroom.

88888

"How did you sleep?" Sandy asked cheerfully when Ryan got back to the room.

"Fine, I guess," Ryan replied, using his fingers to comb his hair.

"Good." Sandy took a deep breath. "Well, let's check out, grab a bite and hit the road."

Ryan grimaced. "Hit the road?" he repeated incredulously. "Who says, 'hit the road' anymore?"

Sandy shrugged. "What can I say?"

"Nothing," Ryan replied. "Nothing could make this better."

"Seth would say you're trying to bring the funny."

"Seth's full of—" Ryan bit his lip. "Sorry."

Sandy chuckled. "Yeah, well…" He looked around. "Ready to go?"

Ryan took a look around and his eyes fell on the corner where he had smashed his phone. The pieces weren't there anymore.

"I threw them away while you slept," Sandy said.

"I'll buy another one."

"Don't worry about that," Sandy said, predictably.

Not for the first time, Ryan wondered where the man found this endless amount of patience and tolerance. "Thanks."

88888

"Will you be okay to drive?" Sandy asked.

Now that it was time to go, Ryan hesitated. Things had been fine with Sandy so far, but they were in an unusual place, far away from their everyday life. The real test would come in Newport.

"What happens now?" Ryan asked, ignoring Sandy's question.

Sandy leaned on the Rover door. "We go back to Newport. You stay home for the day—sleep, eat, play in the pool, whatever."

Ryan frowned. "I meant—"

"I know what you meant." Sandy sighed, absently playing with his keys. "I'll make an appointment to our family doctor," he said. "I'll go with you if you want. Or if you prefer someone else to go with you, that's no problem either."

"No."

"Okay. And Ryan?" Sandy caught Ryan's eyes. "The probability that AJ infected you with something is low. Try not to worry too much."

"Yeah."

"After that, I don't know." Sandy looked at Ryan seriously. "I won't force you into therapy if you're not ready, but I want you to start thinking about it seriously."

Ryan swallowed nervously. "I'm not sure it would help," he said.

"You won't know for sure until you try," Sandy pointed out. "And you're worrying me, kid."

"Because of what I did in Reno?"

"Partly. And because I love you, and I don't think you're doing half as well as you'd want me to believe."

"I'm okay most days," Ryan said, but the reassurance sounded weak, even to himself.

"There's more to life than just being okay," Sandy pointed out.

"I know."

"And you know as well as I do that sooner or later, you'll have to address what these men did to you."

Ryan looked away.

"And yes, we need to figure out how your mother is doing, what kind of trouble she's in and what we can do to help."

"I can't ask you to do that," Ryan protested immediately.

Sandy shot him an exasperated look. "You didn't ask me to do anything, I'm offering. You won't have to deal with all that alone, not this time."

Ryan shook his head. "You guys have done enough."

"Ryan, part of the agreement when we took you in was that we would help you to deal with your family. Accept it and move on."

"I don't remember reading that on the contract," Ryan pointed out, aiming for a light tone.

"Oh, it was there." Sandy winked. "Always read the fine print, Ryan."

Ryan thought about everything the Cohens had included in the fine print—the feeling of belonging, the generous gifts because they considered that Ryan should have everything Seth had, the help they offered to Trey, and now to Dawn, just because they were important to Ryan.

_If it's a Ryan problem, it's a Cohen problem_, Sandy had once said.

Ryan opened his mouth and Sandy hurriedly said, "Don't thank me."

"Thanks," Ryan said stubbornly.

Sandy nodded and opened the door to his car. "So, will you be okay to drive all the way to Newport? We can always come back for the car later."

Ryan shook his head. "I'm good," he said.

Sandy handed Ryan his own cell phone. "In case you have a problem," he said, and Ryan didn't dare refuse.

"I'll see you home," Sandy said, getting into the car and starting the engine.

"See you at home," Ryan replied.

Once Sandy's car had vanished from his sight, Ryan started the Rover and went on his way.

_You won't have to deal with all that alone, not this time._

Sandy's words stayed with him all the way home.

END


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